Angel Season 6
by Painbow
Summary: Picks up directly after "Not Fade Away". Angel is made an offer he can't refuse...rnrnThis is ep 5 of the series, the previous eps can be found on my web site.
1. 6x05 Four Men and a Little Slayer

**Angel 6x05 – Four Men and a Little Slayer**

_Disclaimer:_ These characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, and 20th Century Fox. No copyright infringement is meant from this story.

_Written by_ Michael J

_A/N:_ Thank you to spikeNdru for the beta.

Yes, this is ep 5. Hadn't escaped my notice. There are 4 more, but they are unfortunately in script form and thus cannot be posted here. They will be switched over at some point in the near future, but I am not sure exactly when, so I am including a link to where the previous 4 eps are in my profile since it doesn't seem to work here...

Thanks for reading!

* * *

Angel was in his office at the Hyperion, methodically unpacking books from a box and putting them on shelves. He pulled out the dagger he'd given to Wesley as a gift three years ago. Angel smiled pensively as he remembered his fallen friend.

_"Uh! Sixteenth century!" Wesley said as he unsheathed the dagger. "Angel! Murshan Dynasty? I've always wanted one of these! I didn't think you…," Wesley whipped the dagger in the air as he searched for the proper words. "Oh, I can't wait to kill something with this!"_

Angel stared at the dagger, the smile replaced with a look of sorrow. He set it down and picked up an urn with the inscription 'Wesley Wyndam-Pryce' on the front. Just outside the office in the main lobby, Gunn was organizing a file cabinet while Spike mounted a sword in a weapons cabinet. Illyria stood close to Spike gazing at the weapons. Heather came bouncing down the steps talking on a cell phone.

"Mom, it's just a few nights a week. It won't get in the way of school at all. I'd just like to do something in my spare time." Heather said in a whiny voice. "No, a cooking class is not my idea of fun," she said in a disgusted tone. "It's just a small job at a detective agency. Answering phones and calling sources and stuff like that." Heather lowered her voice before continuing "Plus the guys that work here are total babes."

Angel, who had moved to organizing papers at the front desk, and Spike exchanged a look, having obviously heard Heather's remark with their enhanced hearing.

"Okay mom, I gotta go. Duty calls and all that. Call you tomorrow. Love ya. Bye!" Heather let out an exasperated sigh before turning to address her new employers. "Okay, so can we go kill something?"

Illyria turned to look at Heather, regarding her question with what almost looked like a smile. "I like this one. Most of the females in your species lack a killer's edge. This one has a strong warrior's spirit.

Angel didn't like the sound of that. He walked out from behind the desk with his hands up in a 'stop' signal. "Whoa there, we're still trying to get everything set up. I don't think we should get too heavy into the patrolling just yet. I just got the phones turned back on." He turned to address Heather directly. "Plus, shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"

Heather rolled her eyes and put her hand on her hip. The very thought of dealing with another parental figure was enough to make her reconsider the whole deal. "Well, the semester doesn't start for another couple of weeks. There's just all the Greek week crap. Aside from the parties, there's nothing to do."

Heather walked past Angel and hoped up on the reception desk. She pulled out a nail file and went to work on her fingers. She paused for a moment, trying to appear as casual as possible before getting to her next point. "Oh and I told my mom they were going to let me move back on campus early, but that was just a lie so I wouldn't have to go home. So, can I stay here until I get set up in my place?" It came out more babbling than suave, and Heather felt like she had blown her shot. She looked up to see all the men in the room exchanging apprehensive looks.

Angel curled his arms and suddenly became very interested in looking at his shoes. Finally he eloquently replied, "Umm."

Gunn quickly returned to the file he was flipping through, not looking up as he stuttered over himself. "I'm not sure…well, it's your call, boss."

Spike opened his mouth to interject, but stopped himself when he noticed the look of terror evident on Angel's face. He smirked like a villain in a Bond movie, thoroughly enjoying watching Angel squirm. Angel might be the big hero and all, but Spike had him totally outclassed when it came to handling people, especially women.

Heather continued to stare at Angel as he refused to give a definitive answer, her face looking more and more pathetic by the second. She put on her best puppy dog face. "Come on guys. Please," she whined in her best pleading voice.

Illyria looked at Angel and deadpanned, "I would welcome her presence." She turned to look at Heather. "The company of another female here would be…agreeable."

"Yes!" Heather hopped off the desk and excitedly walked over to stand beside Illyria. She started babbling. "See, Illyria is on my side. I could give you a pedicure! We could paint your toenails orange. It's totally the new pink and it's the perfect contrast to all that blue. We could get some sun too. That pale look so isn't working-"

"I have changed my mind," Illyria interrupted, looking back at Angel with a look of what could pass for fear. "She requires her own domicile."

Heather now had no one on her side and wasn't getting anywhere with the pouty lip approach. She opted for the logical direction. "Look, I'm supposed to be training for this slaying thing, right? How am I going to do that when I have to commute from San Diego? I'm better off being here," she said before looking directly at Angel and continuing in a sarcastic tone. "Unless you want to loan me that convertible."

Angel opened to his mouth to respond, but couldn't think of a rebuttal for that argument. He sighed, defeated. "Okay, okay, you can stay here for awhile."

Gunn's head snapped up to look at Angel. He never thought Angel would agree to take the girl in. Training a slayer was one thing, but living with an obvious hormone machine was another. Sure Fred had lived with Angel for two years, but the first few months were spent locked in her room. Plus Gunn had no intentions of trying to date this girl, so having her around hitting on him wasn't something he was looking forward to. He tried to dissuade her. "Have to warn you, though, it's just us guys and Big Blue over there."

Heather turned to Gunn with an are-you-stupid expression and replied, "This is a bad thing because…"

Gunn pressed on, unaware that he was fighting a losing battle. "Well, it could get a little heavy on the machismo."

Lorne walked in the front door holding a bunch of bags from Bed, Bath, and Beyond, looking almost orgasmic at his stash. "Oh, I've forgotten how much I missed lilac scented bath oil," he said. "If anyone needs me, I'll be soaking in a nice, warm bubble bath."

Lorne went up the stairs to his room singing "Macho Man" by the Village People.

Heather smirked as she watched Lorne leave. "Oh yeah. You guys? All kinds of manly."

DAVID BOREANEZ as ANGEL

JAMES MARSTERS as SPIKE

J AUGUST RICHARDS as GUNN

AMY ACKER as ILLYRIA

ANDY HALLET as LORNE

SARAH POLLEY as HEATHER

GUEST STARRING

VINCENT KARTHEISER as CONNOR

* * *

Gunn and Spike fenced with wooden staffs on the balcony overlooking the lobby while Illyria and Heather sparred in the lobby itself. Angel stood behind the reception desk next to his son, who was visiting under the pretense of more testing of his special abilities. Connor's head rested on his hand as he stared dreamily at Heather. Angel was so happy to be having a casual conversation with his kid that he didn't notice Connor wasn't paying any attention to him.

"Not sure how it compares to your hell dimension experience, but everyday I got killed in a new way. This one time you shot me with that stake gun you had when you escaped from Quor'toth."

Connor held his gaze on the fighting in front of him, but nodded to Angel in a vain attempt to appear interested in whatever the hell he was talking about. He figured his dad would understand his attraction, given that it was hereditary, but Angel appeared to be clueless about a lot of simple life things.

Angel stopped to look at his son and noticed the lack of appreciation for his tale of the hell dimension.

"Then there was this leprechaun. He shot right out of Gunn's ass and beat me to death with his pot of gold."

"That's nice," Connor responded before actually he actually processed what he just heard. "Wait a minute. I thought you told me leprechauns weren't real."

Angel half smiled and looked back towards Heather and Illyria. "So you were listening. I thought you were distracted by that."

Connor tried to stammer an excuse. "No, it's nothing like that. I just appreciate their form."

Angel's half smile expanded to a full one. Despite everyone thinking he was so dense, he wasn't stupid. "I bet you do."

"I meant their fighting form," Connor quickly responded, catching the double meaning. "It's like…ballet. I mean if you're one of those types that likes ballet."

"Hey now," Gunn called out as he and Spike walked over with their fighting staffs. Gunn was sweating profusely while Spike barely looked flustered. All the legalese of the last year had taken some of Gunn's fighting edge away. "Don't go dissing ballet."

Spike looked flabbergasted. "You're into ballet," he scoffed. "You're killing your macho image there."

Gunn returned the flabbergasted expression. "This coming from a poet," he retorted with a tinge of malice. Then he remembered how enthralled he was while he was watching Giselle and figured that Spike had a point. He went on the defensive. "I've only been to one anyway, which I didn't get to see the end of because Cordy and Angel got all kissy in the dressing rooms."

Angel and Connor, in perfect synchronization, looked down at their hands folded on the desk. Any mention of Cordelia Chase brought up the rift that had formed between them, leading to that horrible day in the sporting goods store. Neither of them had mentioned Cordelia to the other for fear of an awkward discussion.

A loud punch resonated from the lobby followed by Heather screaming.

"Incoming slayer," Spike warned as Heather fell into Angel's arms.

Heather looked up at Angel and blushed; then her face hardened as she looked back at her opponent. "You'll pay for that!" she exclaimed and with a silly war cry, she leapt from Angel's arms towards Illyria in a lunging attack. Illyria stood still for a moment, then swept her left arm into an arc and slowed time down. She walked over to the front desk with Heather still in midair. When time resumed its normal flow, Heather landed hard on the ground where Illyria had been standing before. Now that she'd been embarrassed she was bordering on pissed off. "No fair! You can't use your powers to avoid me!"

Illyria relished the opportunity to train the warrior and to expound her centuries of battle knowledge to a fledging student. Angel and his followers never appeared interested in what she had to say, but this one could be molded into a great fighter under her tutelage. "The true warrior uses whatever is available to win. If you are to be a successful slayer, you must learn to adapt to your opponent's abilities, whatever they may be."

"I would so be kicking your ass right now if you weren't using your powers. Bet you wouldn't be half as tough if you weren't using that crystal.

Illyria glared at Heather with her patented slight tilt of the head. She made a deliberate show of placing the crystal on the desk in front of Angel. Then, with her fists clenched so tightly her fingers threatened to shove all the way through her palm, she stalked towards her opponent with a look of death in her eyes.

Lorne, who was standing at the top of the staircase with a sea breeze, saw Illyria's expression. "Uh oh," he muttered in a worried tone.

Angel, Spike, Connor, and Gunn all shared Lorne's concern. "Uh oh," they said in unison.

Heather had been feeling pretty damn sure of herself until she realized she'd just pissed off a god king. She managed to whimper out an "uh oh" before dropping into a ridiculously pathetic fighting stance.

The four men at the front desk winced in pain as the beating began.

Angel tentatively spoke up. "One of us should stop this," he said, hoping that someone else would step up to the challenge.

* * *

In a W&H conference room, a stocky man in a suit stood with his back to a conference table of terrified looking employees. He spoke very slowly, enunciating every syllable as if he were talking to a kindergarten class. 

"To say the least, the Senior Partners are not pleased. Angel and his band of merry men not only managed to destroy the Circle of the Black Thorn, but managed to escape our holding dimension. For a third time, might I add. Let us not forget the incidents with Lindsey McDonald and Charles Gunn," he said before pausing to sigh, exaggerating the expression with a heavy raise and drop of his shoulders.

"Despite all of these setbacks, the Partners' main concern is not with Angel himself. It has been decided that trying to alter Angel's role in the coming apocalypse is wasting too much time, energy, and resources. So from this moment forward, we will not occupy our time on the vampire champion with a soul. When the time comes, we'll simply kill him. The Partners have left the demon army at our disposal whenever we wish to eliminate him. Our field reports state that Angel has reopened his detective agency and will return to his original mission statement of helping the helpless. He poses no real threat for the foreseeable future. Now bear in mind that the hands-off policy is still in effect. Angel will die when the Partners are ready for him to die and only when the Partners are ready for it. Anyone in this room, who seeks to take Angel out of the picture without the consent of the Partners, or myself, will be terminated…in every sense of the word. Our focus now is on the Old One. Our reports also tell us that Illyria has managed to tap into her former powers, thus making her a bigger threat to the apocalypse than Angel himself. The Partners want Illyria to be dealt with," he paused, more out of a desired dramatic effect than the need to breathe, "and I know exactly how to do it."

* * *

Inside a mall in downtown LA, Heather was in line paying for what appeared to be half a department store's worth of clothes. Her face and arms were slightly bruised from the ass-kicking she'd taken from Illyria. She inwardly thanked the heavens for her slayer healing because the bruises were barely visible compared to earlier that day.

Outside the store, Angel and Spike sat on a bench waiting for her to finish her shopping spree. Spike was constantly shuffling his position on the bench, attempting to ease the immense boredom he'd experienced all day. "How'd I let you talk me into this?" he whined. "Why couldn't Lorne come instead? Isn't this more his thing?"

Angel rolled his eyes, this being the umpteenth complaint he'd heard from Spike since they got to the mall, even though he'd bought the guy a limited edition Sex Pistols vinyl as a bribe. "Lorne went to go meet a client with Gunn," he said in a tone that suggested it wasn't the first time he'd conveyed this information. "Some guy who swears his wife is possessed because she keeps leaving at all hours of the night and doesn't remember where she goes."

Spike, reminiscing on his previous out-of-mind experiences, replied with some semblance of knowledge. "Well normally the possessed don't remember much of what they do when they're under the influence. Sounds reasonable enough."

Angel, also reminiscing on past experiences, sighed as he spoke. "Well the last few times I got one of these cases, the wife was cheating. Lorne's there to read her."

Spike's face held no expression. In truth, he was making small talk to steel himself for his next question. Serious conversation with Angel had never been entirely comfortable for him and this was going to be a touchy subject. "So, I got the basic gist of it from Gunn, but not the whole story." He paused as a puzzled Angel looked at him. "Connor."

Angel sighed. Having spent most of the last year with his friends in the dark about his son, he'd gotten used to not talking about him. In truth, he'd enjoyed it on some levels. It was the only bit of solitary brooding he was allowed to do. "Long story that I'm not going to get into. The quick version is that my son was a monster, just like his old man," he paused to steady himself, all the memories of their fights flooding back to him at once. "I was, no I am his father and I couldn't reach him. So when he was standing there in a store with a bomb strapped to his chest, I did what I had to do."

Spike took it all in and decided not to press the matter further. He knew asking for more information wouldn't get him anywhere. "Just trying to figure out why you're taking on another wayward soul is all. Given the banner year you've had…"

"I haven't had a good year since I first met Buffy," Angel interrupted. "Can't take a sabbatical because things aren't going the way I planned."

Spike snorted in response.

Angel frowned and looked back at Heather. This line of questioning was annoying him, but he was trying to hide it. "Why the sudden interest?"

"I keep going back to that night in the alley. We were supposed to die there. We were ready for it."

Angel quickly cut Spike off, knowing where he was going with this line of conversation. "Yeah I was. I'm ready to die every time I go into a fight. I don't plan on it or anything, but going into a fight worrying about whether you're going to win or lose means you're not going in at full strength.

Spike started to reply, but Angel cut him off again. "I hate repeating myself, but it's never about winning or losing. It's about what's at stake. There's never any final battle, no big win. The fight is all that matters. There's no…"

"Alright, I get it! You an' Buffy, always with the big movin' speeches."

Angel smirked. "It's part of being a champion."

Spike returned his smirk. "Thought you hated that word."

"I'm getting used to it," Angel replied with a slight laugh. He perked up and the smirk on his face quickly faded. Spike followed his gaze. Heather was now at the front of the line talking to the sales clerk.

Heather smiled at the guy ringing up her clothes. He was making a point of removing the security tags from her clothes and ringing them up slowly so as to get more time to hit on her. She couldn't say she was objecting. "So you go to UCLA too?" she asked with a bit of surprise in her voice.

Chance, the cashier, grinned from ear to ear. Working at the Gap had its benefits, namely the staggering number of attractive women that he ran across every day. Making small talk and getting a phone number was nothing new for him. "Just transferred from a junior college actually. This was just a summer job to get some book money."

"I just got back from study abroad in Europe," said Heather in an aren't-I-cool tone. "I took this job at a detective agency to pass the time. Only been there a week. The hours suck though. Mostly nights."

Chance decided to cut to the chase because he saw a girl by the sweater rack he wanted to get to before she left. "Well listen, umm…you just said you work nights and all, but if you're free tonight, I heard that Alpha Kappa Psi is having this party. Sort of a 'last party before returning to the mines' deal. If you're interested, maybe we could meet up there."

Heather smiled at Chance, who wrote down his phone number on her credit card receipt before bagging up her clothes. Spike and Angel looked none too pleased about the situation.

Spike spoke up first. "You still got that 'no eating humans' rule?"

"I'm willing to make an exception," Angel replied.

* * *

Gunn worked on hanging a punching bag while Illyria stared at him. As he stretched to the wooden beam in the ceiling to hang the bag, his shirt pulled up to reveal a scar. Gunn glanced over and noticed Illyria looking at his wound. "Okay, what's up?" he asked, annoyed at the constant staring. Unlike the others, Gunn hadn't spent too much time around Illyria and wasn't completely comfortable with a demon walking around in the body of someone he loved. He'd only been able to take five minutes of a vampire wearing his sister's face before he staked it. "You're doing that 'I have a question' stare instead of your usual 'you are all vermin' stare. You got something to say, say it."

Illyria obliged the mortal's request. She was fairly curious anyway. "That scar. How did you acquire it? I thought the wolf, ram, and hart healed all your injuries."

Gunn immediately regretted goading Illyria into questioning him. He figured Illyria got all the facts from Wesley, but apparently Wes left out a few things. He tried to sound normal in his reply, but his voice still cracked. "Oh this? This isn't from that night with the vamps. This is from when Wes stabbed me."

"Wesley did not tell me he assaulted you," Illyria stated, seemingly surprised at this new tidbit of information.

Gunn rubbed the wound as he replied. "Well, I think part of him regretted it. At least I'd like to hope part of him did," he paused to pull his shirt back down and went back to hanging the bag. "He had his reasons though."

Illyria looked at Gunn with the blank stare she'd always used with Wesley. "What were his reasons?"

"Do you have to ask so many damn questions!?" Gunn exclaimed. He wondered how Wesley had put up with this torture for so long. This was the longest amount of time he'd spent alone with Illyria and he was ready to hang himself. He resigned himself to his fate, knowing if he didn't answer now, he'd have to repeat this conversation later.

"Fred. It was Fred."

Illyria looked off into space, searching her memory. "There is a memory of you two coming to blows over Fred before. Is this the incident you refer to?"

"Nope. Something else. It was over you," Gunn replied, still not looking anywhere near Illyria's general direction.

Illyria's expression softened a bit. "Wesley attacked you to defend me?"

"Hell no," Gunn retorted. He looked at Illyria and quickly corrected himself. "I mean, it was about Fred i and /i you. I let you get into Fred's body and take over. Wes found out and wasn't too happy about it."

Illyria's visage returned to her hardened blank stare. The idea of Wesley becoming angry and defensive over her invoked a sense of joy that she refused to show Gunn.

"My coming was foretold. The Qua'Ha'Xahn told me this," she stated matter of factly. "You mean to tell me that you had a hand in my resurrection?"

Gunn still tried his best to not look at Illyria. He was actually done hanging the punching bag and was simply playing with the chain holding it to keep himself occupied.

"I signed a customs release…I mean, I let your coffin get into the lab in the first place. If it weren't for me, Fred will still be here and you wouldn't be."

"And you would prefer it that way," Illyria said with clear anger. "If you could change things, you bring Fred back."

"Without a second thought," Gunn quickly replied.

Illyria closed her eyes and reared her head back. Slowly, her god king form shifted into the visage of Fred. Her body armor changed to a pair of white khaki pants and an orange tank top, hair hung in pigtails. She looked the same as when Fred and Gunn first started dating.

Gunn caught the transformation out of the corner of his eye and stumbled back in fear. "What the hell," he half asked, with a mix of anger and shock.

"A simple modulation of," Illyria started before clearing her voice and continuing in Fred's voice. "It's a basic change of my physical form. My control of my body combined with the demonic powers allow me to shift my outward appearance based on my memories and since I'm talking to you and you don't like she of the icy blue, why the heck shouldn't I try to make things a little…"

"Change back," Gunn interrupted, his voice full of anger. He approached her fully prepared to fight, knowing he didn't stand a chance. "You're not her. Change back."

Fred's sweet smile dissolved into Illyria's familiar glare, even though she maintained Fred's look. She said nothing, instead choosing to stare at Gunn as Illyria under the guise of Fred.

"You heartless bitch," Gunn spat as he strode to Illyria. "I said change back."

Illyria stood there, almost taunting Gunn to attack her. She was testing exactly how stable he was. Having pretty much figured out how Angel, Spike, and Wesley felt about her presence, Charles Gunn was the only remaining mystery. This entire experience was a lesson to her. She stared off with Gunn until the sounds of an argument from the floor above interrupted them.

* * *

"Who the hell are you to tell me I can't go out with someone!?" Heather screamed as she entered the lobby.

Angel entered the lobby next, followed by Spike, who stopped and sat down on the stairs to the upper levels, wanting to avoid the train wreck he knew was coming.

"I didn't say you couldn't. Just said it wasn't a good idea. I mean, going to a frat party with a guy you don't know?…"

"Oh right because the frat is secretly worshipping demons and wants to sacrifice me."

"I've seen it happen before," Angel said as he tried to stifle a laugh. "Not to mention the fact that you're a Slayer now. Demons can pick up on that and might try to take you down."

"What, are you my dad now?" Heather retorted. "Did it ever occur to you that since ninety percent of the world doesn't know that monsters exist, maybe demons aren't attacking every helpless looking little girl? Just because this crap happens in your little pocket of the world all the friggin' time doesn't mean it happens to everyone else. Christ!"

With that rant out of the way, Heather stormed up the steps to her room to change for the party.

Spike's eyes follow her up the stairs before turning to meet Angel's. "Smooth, that. Almost three centuries old and you're still inept with women."

"Yeah, like you're so good at it. I'm sure that century with Dru was chock full of meaningful conversation."

"Had practice with the Niblet," Spike replied.

Angel replied to this with a look of disgust and Spike quickly got what he was implying. "Oh, not that kind of practice, you git."

Angel turned around to look at Connor, who was staring at him looking pissed.

"What's with you?"

"You're letting her go out with someone else?"

Angel sighed and went up the stairs to try talking to Heather again.

* * *

Lorne was hanging all of his suits in his closet when he heard Heather's voice from a few rooms down. She was singing in the shower. He quickly moved to the other side of the room to his makeshift bar, made a sea breeze and chugged it. "Gotta get a new room."

* * *

Angel stood outside Heather's door, taking an unnecessary deep breath before opening it. "Heather, we should talk." He stopped cold and quickly turned his head away, shielding his eyes.

Heather scrambled to cover herself with her towel. "Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with you!?" she screamed as she covered up. "You knock on a girl's door before just walking in!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think…I'll just go," Angel stammered as he backed out of the room and shut the door. "Okay," he whispered to himself as he walked back towards the lobby. "Maybe not just like Connor."

* * *

"Three days around a slayer and you've already seen her naked," Spike said as he saw Angel coming back down the stairs. "At this rate, you'll be shagging her at the end of the week."

Angel shot him a look as he flopped down into the couch in the lobby.

"Oh, and you understand women so well, Spike?"

"Better than you," Spike muttered, perfectly aware of the benefits of vampire hearing.

Heather came bounding down the stairs of the Hyperion in a yellow sundress and white sandals. She was grinning from ear to ear and did a twirl in the lobby to show off her outfit.

"How do I look?" she asked.

Connor glanced up from his laptop to look at Heather and struggled to get a response out. "Umm…nice."

"Hey kid, you might want to pick that up off the ground," Gunn whispered to Connor.

"Pick what up?"

"Your jaw."

"Are you really going to out in that?" Angel asked with a disapproving look on his face.

Heather looked down at herself. By her standards, the outfit was pretty damn modest. She looked back at Angel looking for answers.

"I mean there's nothing wrong with the dress," Angel said, seeing the look in her eye. "It's just…well…how are you supposed to fight in that?"

Heather was caught off guard. She was expecting Angel to try to talk her out of going to the party, like he had on the car ride home. Now he was just questioning her attire.

"Well, I have a pair of leather pants upstairs. Would you rather I wear those?"

"Only if you've turned evil," Angel replied with a smirk. Spike snorted a laugh in the background.

"So you're okay with me going then," she asked, still not buying the one eighty Angel had done on the matter.

"Completely okay. Go have a good time," Angel said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

"Alright, well I'll see you boys later."

Heather waved and walked outside to get into the cab she'd called earlier. Angel watched from the door with a big grin on his face. As soon as the cab was gone, his smile faded and he turned back towards the lobby.

"Connor."

"Yeah?"

"Follow her."

"Right."

* * *

Heather swayed her hips to the music as she danced with Chance. The party had gone pretty well so far, despite Chance being a little more forward than she was used to. His hands roamed all over her body while they danced and she kept having to move them away. He'd already tried to kiss her once and she'd avoided it by feigning a sneeze. At the moment, he was behind her grinding his crotch into her and nuzzling her neck.

"You smell so nice," he whispered into her neck.

Part of her wanted to turn around and knock him out, but she didn't want to cause a scene. She'd already decided to blow him off before the end of the night. The party was full of good-looking guys she could hit on, even if most of them were standing in groups by themselves instead of mingling with the ladies. Her train of thought was interrupted by Chance kissing her neck. She pulled away and turned around to meet his eyes.

"Hey stud, don't move too fast. Night's still young. Why don't you get me a drink?" she said in her best seductive voice. In truth, she was trying to get him away for a minute so she could breathe.

Chance was getting frustrated. Normally he had his dates well on their way to being drunk by now, but this one was different. She'd turned down earlier offers for drinks in favor of dancing, which he wouldn't have a problem with if she weren't being such a prude. He'd only grabbed her ass once and she moved away before he could get any further. Her request for a drink caught him off guard, but he wanted to press the advantage.

"Sure. I'll be right back," he said before dashing off to the punch bowl. He stopped to take stock of the crowd. Lots of great looking girls were dancing with each other while a lot of the guys were huddled off in groups laughing and talking with each other. What the hell was wrong with them?

* * *

Connor was perched on a tree outside the frat house. He'd spent the last few hours peeking through windows looking for statues of demons or anything else occult related. Angel was all but convinced that something evil was going on. Part of him felt that his father was overreacting, but Connor was more concerned with Heather's date possibly being evil. He couldn't deny that the thought of pounding on the guy was appealing. Finding an unlocked window on the third floor, he climbed into a bedroom decorated with movie posters. i Typical. /i he thought to himself. He'd never been much for fraternities. The idea of paying to make friends seemed incredibly stupid. His dorm room was also a hell of a lot bigger than the cubbyhole he found himself in. The guy also seemed to be a big Colin Farrell fan. Every poster in the room was of one of his movies.

"Nothing strange so far, outside of crappy taste in movies," Connor muttered to himself. He heard voices and footsteps coming towards him and dashed back out the window. As he watched, two guys, one blonde and one redhead, entered the room. They both looked totally human, but Connor was getting a 'vibe'. There was something going on here, although he couldn't yet identify what it was. The blonde was obviously worried about something.

"I don't know," the blonde said worriedly. "I just don't think I'm ready for all this yet."

"You pledged to us for a reason, right?" the redhead asked pointedly. "Trust me you'll feel much better when it's over. Free. Empowered. Different…Stronger."

"I just don't think it's a good time. What about all those girls downstairs?" the blonde asked, still shaken. "What will they do?"

"Dude, after tonight, you're not going to have to worry about those girls," the redhead answered. "None of them are gonna matter. Hell, after tonight, they won't even exist."

Outside the window, Connor listened to the conversation. He whipped out his cell phone and dialed the Hyperion.

"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless," Angel's voice answered.

"Dad, get over here now!"

* * *

Angel hung up the phone and practically sprinted to the weapons cabinet. He'd had Spike, Gunn, and Lorne on alert in case they needed to invade the party. All of them had deliberately ignored his orders and were getting to the bottom of a case…of scotch. Now he got to spend the next thirty minutes saying 'I told you so' to them in the car ride over.

"Everyone gear up," he called out.

Angel grabbed his favorite broad sword and loaded up his wrist stakes as he walked to the door. He wasn't counting on vampires, but better safe than sorry. He looked back at his three friends, who were making zero effort to move from the table they were drinking at.

"Let's go, let's go. Frat boys to hurt," Angel said excitedly as he held the door open.

"Go yourself," Gunn called back. "I'm not making an ass of myself tonight."

"Haven't seen Peaches this giddy for a fight since the old days," Spike said. "If you ask me, he's a little too excited about pounding on frat ass."

* * *

Heather walked around the party looking for Chance. He'd gone off to use the bathroom about twenty minutes ago and hadn't returned. Part of her was glad to be rid of him, but the slayer in her wanted to be sure he wasn't getting eaten or anything. A cute guy in a sweater vest walked up to her.

"You looking for that guy you were with?" he asked, looking around the room.

"I think I got ditched," she replied, sizing the guy up.

"Shame. He was cute," the guy replied. "Anyhow, I saw him leave in a hurry a few minutes ago."

"That little punk."

"Yeah, sorry. I wish he stayed though. There aren't that many single people here. Too many couples."

Heather took a look around the room again. She still didn't see many of the guys standing with girls. Most of them were off in their own little worlds.

"What do you mean," she asked. "There's way more guys than girls here."

"Yeah, and they're all taken."

"The girls?"

"The guys."

Heather could almost hear the click in her mind as she finally got it. "Oh, so you're…"

"It's okay to say the word," the guy said, seeing her hesitation. "I'm not ashamed or anything."

"Gay," she finally finished.

"Not only that, but I have a little confession to make," he added. "I might've had something to do with your friend leaving." At Heather's confused look, he continued, "I saw him in the bathroom and made a pass at him. He bolted pretty quickly."

Heather was even more confused. Chance hadn't given off that vibe when they met, despite the obvious sign of working at the Gap. "What made you think he'd be into you? I mean guys in general, not that there's anything wrong with you."

"Sweetie, have you taken a good look around?"

Heather scanned the room again. This guy had said that a lot of the guests were couples, but all she saw were a bunch of guys standing with each other. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an 'O' as another click went off in her head.

* * *

Angel strode from the car with purpose. Connor met him halfway up the steps to the front door and took a sword out of his hands. _I knew I was right_.Angel thought to himself. _I wonder what kind of demon it is_. He stopped at the front door, rolled his shoulders, popped his neck, and kicked the door in.

"Heather!" Angel yelled as he rushed in with his sword raised.

Everyone on the dance floor turned to look at Angel and Connor. Angel stood in a battle stance, his eyes scanning the room looking for Heather or any sign of a demon. Connor stood at his side doing the same. The guy who'd spoken to Heather earlier slowly approached Angel, hands raised in a peaceful manner.

"Dude, protesting isn't enough. Now you're busting in here with weapons."

"Protesting?" Angel asked, his temper getting worse by the second. "What the hell are you talking…" he grabbed the guy by the shirt and lifted him off the ground. "What are you doing here, huh? What demon are you worshipping?"

"Demon?!? Dude, let go of me."

"Angel!" Heather screamed as she pushed her way through the crowd. "Oh my God! Put him down!"

Angel held the guy in the air as Heather approached him. She looked fine physically. _Bastards probably brainwashed her,_ he thought.

"Umm…dad," Connor said as he tugged at Angel's coat. His eyes were fixated on a couple of guys off to the side.

"What do you mean 'put him down,'" Angel asked Heather, still holding the guy up by his collar. "Connor said these guys were into something."

"Dad?"

Heather was thoroughly embarrassed by now and wanted to leave. She also wanted Angel to quit scaring the poor guy to death.

"Angel, just put him down and let's leave, okay?"

"Dad!" Connor yelled as he yanked Angel's arm and pointed to the guys in the corner. They were holding hands.

Angel's eyes scanned the rest of the room. He saw one guy with his arms around the waist of a smaller one. He looked up to the balcony and saw two guys groping each other. Finally, his brain put it together.

"Oh," he said, absentmindedly dropping his victim to the ground. "I thought…oh."

"I am so sorry about this," Heather said as she picked the guy up.

"Don't apologize," he replied as he regained his footing. "I like 'em a little rough."

Angel and Connor stood there looking like deer caught in headlights. A guy walked in the door behind them and slapped Connor on the ass.

"Hey!" Connor exclaimed as he grabbed his rear in shock.

The guy standing with Heather eyed Angel up and down. He grabbed Angel's bicep and gave it a squeeze. "Love the coat."

* * *

Angel and Connor walked into the Hyperion with dejected faces. Behind them, Heather walked in laughing her head off. She'd laughed the entire way home, teasing Angel and Connor in between all the I-told-you-so's.

"Are you done laughing yet?" Angel whined.

"Okay, okay I'm done," Heather answered before doubling over in laughter again. "That's what you guys get for not trusting me."

"Hey, I trusted you," Connor blurted out. "He made me follow you. I absolutely trust your judgment."

Heather rolled her eyes. Connor's attempts to be cool were cute. Very lame, but cute. She could definitely tell he was his father's son. She looked at her watch. It was still early. She could hit a club or two before calling it a night. She turned to walk out the door again.

"Whoa," Angel said as he blocked the door. "Where are you going?"

"Well, party was a bust, so I'm going to go clubbing. You're not going to follow me again, are you?"

Angel sighed. He hated being wrong. He hated being humiliated in public even more.

"No," he said, almost whispering to himself. "I won't."

She gave his arm a squeeze as she walked back out the door.

"Connor."

"Yeah?"

"Follow her."

"Right."


	2. 6x06 Fanboy

Angel Season 6- 6x06

**FANBOY**

Written by: "Painbow"

Summary: The AI gang investigate a rash of crimes that hit a little to close to home.

Disclaimer: We don't own the characters. We don't get paid. Please don't sue…

A/N: Sorry for the extreem delay in getting the next episode out. RL crap and anhenious case of writer's block got in the way. The next few eps should be far more timely.

Thanks again to spikeNdru and MJ (my co-author) for the beta

Previous episodes can be found on size=1 width=100% noshade>_Halloween…2003._

_A man stood inside the elevators at Wolfram and Heat, whistling softly to himself in an attempt to block out the muzak version of "The Monster Mash". He shifted the giant Styrofoam skull he was carrying, trying to find a more comfortable position against his hip._

_The elevator came to a halt with a ding and the man stepped forward, moving the giant skull in front of him to fit it through the doors. _

_Suddenly, he was flying backwards, slamming against the floor in the lobby. He looked up to see a man with a prominent brow and the look of one who spent a good deal of time brooding, reguarding him with a mixture of confusion and frustration._

_The forehead-man turned to someone he couldn't see. "Ok, why does it look like we're having a party in here?"_

_The man focused on forehead's face. So this was Angel…C.E.O._

_A voice sounded from out of his line of sight. "Well, maybe because we're having a party in here." A green demon walked into the foyer. "The Wolfram and Hart Halloween bash? Ring a bell? The biggest…" The voice trailed off to nothing. The man wasn't listening to it. It wasn't important. Angel was._

* * *

The Present…

In a dark, dank basement the man stood in front of a cracked mirror, slowly spiking his hair. He finished, happy with the results and made what he thought was a heroic face in the mirror. He turned to look at his profile, furrowing his brow.

He walked over to the corner and rifled around in a box, finally coming away with a black, three-quarter length, leather jacket. He stared at it for a moment, pulling at the leather a little, as if looking for flaws.

After a few moments he looked into the mirror again, attempting the brow-furrow for a second time. Putting on the jacket, he maintained the expression and looked up at himself again. He grinned at his reflection.

"Oh yeah…" he said, cockily, grinning widely. He tried the heroic face again, looked dissatisfied and stopped, trying an evil leer instead. His eyes brightened.

"Much better! Okay…I'm ready."

He stopped and frowned at the mirror again, this time examining his reflection.

"Huh," he pursed his lips. "Gotta get rid of that."

**OPENING CREDITS**

DAVID BOREANEZ as ANGEL

JAMES MARSTERS as SPIKE

J AUGUST RICHARDS as GUNN

AMY ACKER as ILLYRIA

ANDY HALLET as LORNE

SARAH POLLEY as HEATHER

GUEST STARRING

VINCENT KARTHEISER as CONNOR

* * *

Spike opened the door with an axe and ran straight into a barrier. "Well, Charlie-boy, looks like this'll be a solo mission."

Gunn walked past Spike and into the house. "You sure about this? I didn't see anything."

"Vampire."

Gunn sighed. "Right." He looked back at Spike. "I'm just waiting for the day when your vamp senses are wrong. Like, there's no damsel and you're just trippin', thinking there's some—"

A low moan broke into Gunn's rant. He just knew Spike was going to say something.

Spike said something. "I guess that day's not today," he smirked. "Why don't you go check it out?"

Gunn gritted his teeth. It was too close to the end of patrol for sarcasm. Although he was fairly certain that Spike had married sarcasm a while back and the two of them were together 'til death did them part…or, you know, past it.

He walked by another terrible living room set. He wasn't sure why, but every remotely nice house he'd entered on a case or patrol had ugly-ass furniture. Maybe if they'd just let him pick stuff out for them…

He heard another moan coming from the back room. Suddenly Spike came up beside Gunn.

"Barrier's down. Owner must be dead."

"You fall on your face?"

Spike gave him an offended look. "No."

Gunn smiled, looking back towards the living room. "You fell on your face."

Spike sighed. "Yeah."

"Someone's still moaning from the back."

"Which means the owner's not our moaner." Spike frowned for a second before deciding to ignore the impromptu poetry and made a bee-line for a door near the back of the living room. Gunn was a little surprised. He'd expected Spike to at least check out the area first.

"Not so fast, Blondie Bear! I haven't scoped out the room yet."

Spike shrugged. "You do that, then. I'll go rescue the bloke in the back."

Gunn sighed and followed Spike, keeping an eye out for potential threats. He followed Spike through the door and took in the scene before him. A middle-aged man was tied to a chair, blood still trickling down his face from several wounds.

"My niece," he managed to say through his bruised mouth. "Where is she? He took her…out the door…he kept saying something about a chain saw."

Gunn went around the back of the chair and began untying the man, whose fingers were definitely broken.

Spike kneeled in front. "Is this her house?"

The man coughed, spitting up blood. "Y-yes. I'm visiting her…I'm here until tomorrow," he coughed again. "I think. I've lost track of time." He looked around the room, eyes failing to focus on anything. He turned back to Spike. "Do you think I've missed my flight back to Heathrow? It was terribly expensive."

* * *

The man lurked outside the Hyperion, peering in through the window. He could see Angel sorting through the weapons cabinet, sighing.

"Same old problem," said Angel, to himself. "How should I sort them?"

Lorne walked down the stairs, looking at the ground.

"Hey, Lorne," said Angel, looking up. "How should I sort the weapons? We did it by damage last time, but—"

Lorne cut him off, still heading to the door. "Whatever you want, Angel-cakes." He said to Angel, and then muttered to himself, "That's how it always goes."

"You got something to say, Lorne?" asked Angel, getting up from the floor. "Cause, I gotta say, not lovin' the attitude."

"Oh, you're not?" Lorne began, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I'm so sorry, fearless leader! And, yeah, I have lots to say—" Lorne stopped talking as Heather entered the room from behind him.

"Hey guys. What's up?" She smiled at Lorne, who stopped, back tensing.

"But it can wait," he said, fixing his jacket and making a bee-line for the front door.

Heather looked over at Angel. "What's his deal? Every time I get near him, he scampers. Usually to get a 'drink or ten,'" she brought her fingers up to her ears, making air quotes.

Angel stared after Lorne, looking troubled, as Spike walked in from the basement, carrying an axe.

"C'mon, luv. You need to do some training."

Heather looked away from where she had watched Lorne's hasty exit and fluttered her eyelashes. "Ooh, with you? Coming!" She winked at Angel. "I'll wear him down yet," she said, grinning, and trotted off after Spike.

Angel sighed again and looked down at his weapons. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

The man saw the green demon walk out of the front doors of the hotel. He suddenly realized he was too exposed and ducked beneath some shrubbery along the side.

Lorne stopped, hearing something. He peered into the bushes for a moment but couldn't make out anything in the gloom. Shrugging, he turned away and left the hotel grounds.

The man slowly came out of hiding, hoping that the demon had truly not seen him. He guessed that this one didn't have enhanced night vision like Angel. Good to know…he watched Lorne's back intensely.

* * *

Spike swung his axe at Heather, missing her by only a fraction.

"Watch it, luv, I almost took your head off."

Heather grinned and batted her eyelashes at him again. "Oh, you can take my head off any day."

Spike stood up from his fighting stance, rolling his eyes. "Look, ducks, it's not that I'm not fl—"

Heather brought her axe around in a quick arc, taking Spike's feet out from under him. He landed on his back with an 'oof'. He looked at the ceiling for a bit, attempting to regain some semblance of dignity. Heather's face came into his view. She grinned and raised an eyebrow, which Spike thought was a thoroughly annoying facial gesture. He looked away. She was entirely too smug.

"Looks like there's a bit o' water damage," he said, gesturing to the ceiling.

Heather grinned wider.

* * *

Gunn walked into the lobby and stood next to Angel.

"Sorting weapons again?"

Angel looked up. "Yeah. Name or damage."

"They all sharp?"

"Well the mace is kinda—"

"So why does it matter?"

"Because I…you know, I'm not sure. We've always organized it a specific way and then Cordy switched it when I went away that summer and it's never been the same."

"So do you want to organize it like she did or like it used to be?"

Angel put down the sword he was holding. "I don't know."

Gunn looked down. "Well, I just killed the mood."

The two men stood awkwardly in the lobby for a few moments before Gunn reached into his bag. "Look, man, the reason why I stopped in from patrol was I've been getting wind of a bunch of weird cases lately."

Angel perked up, glad to change the subject. "What kind of weird cases?"

Gunn looked down at the sheet he'd pulled out. "Well, there was that one last week where Spike and I freed that old dude. He was tied to a chair and had been tortured for hours. When we got to him he had broken fingers and bruising all over his face."

Angel nodded, frowning. Something about it sounded familiar, but Gunn was still talking so he turned his attention to the next case.

"…heard from him later that his niece was found a day later in her boyfriend's room with a broken neck and her puppy had been nailed to—"

Angel cut him off. "Why don't you and Spike scope it out? The whole puppy thing seems to point to something demony."

"We also got a call that a blonde girl was found with an X carved into her face."

"An X?"

"That's what the guy said."

Angel was a little relieved. If it had been a cross he would have been worried.

Angel turned back to the cabinet. "I'll go check out the X one, you and Spike get started on the others." Gunn sighed. Something about all this was off. He was sure they were all related in some way, but he had no proof and it seemed that Angel didn't agree.

* * *

Heather walked down a back alley towards the Hyperion. The club had been fun, but she was ready to pack it in. She'd managed to follow a vamp from the dance floor and save the guy she was snacking on, but the bitch had torn her skirt. Definitely time to call it a night.

She stopped. Something was behind her. She hated that feeling, like something with too many legs was crawling up her spine.

She started walking again and then turned suddenly, grabbing someone by the neck and throwing him to the ground. She stood over her stalker in a fighting stance, eyeing him. Not too bad. Good dress sense, even if a tad on the monochrome side. Definitely good looking in a dark way.

He looked up at her. "Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"Um, yeah! Why are you following me?"

"Don't worry, I know what you're thinking." He grinned. "Don't worry. I don't bite."

"What do you want?"

He paused and looked as if her was trying to remember something. "The same thing you do."

Heather looked skeptical. "Oh yeah? And what do I want?"

His eyes gleamed. "To kill them. To kill them all."

Heather raised her eyebrows. "Umm…alright. That's…not what I want. I, uh, I have to go now, thanks. It's been…weird."

"You're prettier than the last one," he called after her.

She paused for a moment and then kept walking.

* * *

At a desk in the corner of his basement, the man leafed through a stack of photos. A flash of Lorne's face was replaced by a flash of Angel's, then Heather's, then Illyria's, then Spike's, then Gunn's. There were significantly more flashes of Angel and Heather.

He stopped at one of the flashes of Angel, holding it up to the light. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned to the mirror to check the results. He looked down at the picture and back up at the mirror again. Shrugging he put the picture down in favor of one of Heather walking through the lobby. He held it up and leaned back, smiling.

"To kill this girl, you gotta love her."

He frowned.

He tried again. "Well, hello, lover."

He frowned again.

"You and me, slayer," he grinned. "Yeah, that's better."

He propped up the picture of Heather, took out a sketchpad and began drawing.

* * *

Lorne opened the door to the hotel, much happier with the whole situation now that he had another five Seabreezes under his belt. He may not be drunk, but things definitely looked rosier. It was amazing how a little alcohol could make the whole world a better place.

Angel came out of his office. "Uh oh, busted!" said Lorne, a lot louder then he had intended.

"Where have you been?" asked Angel, annoyed. "It's been two days!"

"Oh, gee, I'm sorry _mom_. I forgot that it was your job to keep tabs on me. Oh, wait. No it's not."

Angel ground his teeth in frustration. "Lorne, would you just talk to me. What's wrong?"

"What's…" Lorne looked at him incredulously, "you're serious? You don't know?"

"No, I don't, and I'm getting really sick of…"

Heather appeared at the top of the stairs. "Guys, could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep." She smiled ruefully. "And I thought my days of being woken up at 4am were over when I moved out of res."

Lorne turned away, deliberately not looking at her. Heather looked hurt. "I'll just," she gestured in the general direction of the doors. She disappeared from the top floor.

Angel turned to Lorne looking frustrated. "What's your problem with Heather?"

"You mean besides the fact that she's annoying?"

"_You_ think _she's_ annoying? Really."

"Yes! She's always around, she dresses flamboyantly, she talks strangely," Lorne threw his arms up in frustration. "And, I just don't like her. Is there some reason why I have to, fearless leader?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Oh, sorry. What would you prefer? Mine Fuehrer? Uncle Angel? Daddy Broody-pants?"

Angel glared. "I'm serious, Lorne. What's the problem?"

Lorne turned away. "You sent me to kill someone," he said, softly.

"This is about Lindsey? Lorne, we all had to do stuff that was—"

Lorne whirled on him, and for the first time Angel could see a glint of rage. "You sent me to kill someone, Angel. Me! You knew that it was against everything I stand for, but you sent me anyway." He turned away again. "Who cares about Lorne?" His voice was bitter.

Angel was stunned. "I…I didn't—"

"What? Think?" Lorne walked behind the reception counter and rooted around underneath, pulling up a bottle of vodka. "I think that's obvious."

Angel ground his teeth again. "No. I didn't realize it would be such a problem. It was Lindsey, Lorne! He is-was-evil!"

Lorne slammed the bottle down on the counter. "You just don't get it! You don't understand why this is a problem for me. I swore to help people find their paths, not end them! Yes, Lindsey was part of the problem, always would be, but you should never have asked me to be the solution. Do you know what he said to me? 'You don't kill me! Angel kills me!' He called me a lackey." Lorne chuckled humorlessly. "He was right."

Angel tried to grasp on to something. "Lorne, you're not a lackey."

"Not about that! You've missed the point again." Lorne pulled out a cup and poured himself a glass, sipping as he mulled something over. "For a creature of gray, Angel, you view the world surprisingly black and white."

Angel clenched his fists. "So, if you're so upset why are you still here?"

Lorne sipped. "Force of habit. Lack of a better place to go. Worried that when I find said place some soldiers will take me back to Wolfram and Heart to pay for what you did. Certainty that as soon as I left one of your merry men would come a runnin' to find me. But don't kid yourself. I'm not here to help, Angel." He lifted his glass. "Cheers." Lorne walked out from behind the counter and made for his room.

Angel watched him go. "I almost miss 'Angel-cakes,'" he said to himself and walked back to his office.

* * *

The man closed the door in one of the spare rooms. So Angel and Lorne were at odds, eh? That was definitely a bonus…

He walked back to the window and waited for…there! He heard someone coming down the hall. He grinned widely, prepared to make a quick exit.

* * *

_Angel punched Spike in the face._

"_Ow! You son of a—"_

_He watched from the lobby like the rest of the staff. The boss was losing it, they all said. He'd finally succumbed to the power of running the firm._

_From through the window he watched Angel take Spike by the throat after discarding the green demon. The new liaison walked in through the door and broke up the confrontation. _

"_Sorry. Didn't know you were…in conference."_

"_I was just making a closing statement," said Angel as he pushed Spike towards the door. "Unless someone didn't hear me?"_

_The members of his team filed out the door, and Angel called after the ex-watcher. "Goes for you too, Wes. Illyria's your responsibility. Make sure she doesn't get twitchy."_

_Angel's team walked grimly through the lobby towards the elevator. Lorne looked especially disturbed by the turn of events. The various staffers in the foyer heaved a sigh of relief now that the office was no longer crowded with angry champions, but the level of tension remained high. Something was going down, and soon. The man turned his attention back to the office, watching the door intensely._

* * *

"Angel!" Heather came running through the lobby and burst into the office. "Angel, what the hell is this?" She thrust a piece of paper on to the desk.

Angel sighed and picked it up. It was a crudely drawn picture of a woman sleeping. He looked up. "I don't know. What?"

"Did you do it?"

Angel looked offended. "Of course not! _I_ can actually draw!"

"Well, whoever did needs to stop. It's bad, it's creepy, and they made me look totally fat!"

"So where did you find it?"

"It was on my pillow when I got back to bed. Next to this." She placed another piece of paper on the desk.

_Soon_.

Angel stared and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Heather was saying something.

"…Angel?"

He looked up, shaking off seven years ago. "I'm sorry?"

"Soon what? Cause, I mean, this is really creepy. So just tell Gunn or Lorne or Spike or whoever that I'm flattered, but there are better ways to…" she stopped. "What?"

"This isn't any of them."

"Okay, then who is it?"

Angel looked up. "Me."

Heather looked blankly at him. "Huh?"

Angel stood up. "Get Spike and Gunn down here."

Heather looked more confused. "Why are you leaving pictures on my bed."

Angel frowned at her. "I'm not."

"But you said…"

Angel growled. "Just get them."

The look of confusion was replaced with a look of annoyance. "Look, buddy, you're gonna explain what the h—"

Angel pushed past her and into the lobby. "Gunn! Spike!"

* * *

A few minutes later a groggy looking Gunn and bored looking Spike were assembled in the lobby. Heather sat on the counter looking pissed off while Angel mulled over the papers in his hand.

"What's this all about, then?" Spike asked, trying to cut through Angel's brood. "I was just about to make Blue scream 'uncle'."

Angel grimly passed him the papers. Spike looked them over, eyes widening.

"But this…"

"I know."

"How? I mean, you're not…"

"No."

"Then what…"

"I don't know."

Gunn rubbed his eyes. "Would it be possible to cut the code? It's hard for a brother to crack it at _four _am."

Spike passed the drawing to him. Gunn looked it over.

"Kinda crappy. So what?"

"Someone left it on Heather's pillow."

"Okay, kinda weird. So what?"

"Back in Sunnydale when Angelus was…this was how he-I-tortured the slayer."

Gunn looked confused. "You left crappy drawings of her on her pillow?"

"Yes, well, no, since I can actually draw, but yes. Angelus drew pictures of Buffy and her loved ones to taunt her."

"So you thinking we have a copycat?" asked Gunn, handing the papers back to Angel. "What about those other cases we've been getting. I keep having this feeling that they're related."

Heather jumped up. "Angelus is the evil you right?" Angel nodded. "There's someone trying to be him leaving stuff on my pillow?"

Angel sighed. "I'm not sure."

"Well get sure!" she exclaimed, sounding scared.

"Don't worry, luv," said Spike. "Angelus takes forever to actually kill someone. We've got plenty of time." He smirked at an unimpressed Angel.

Angel chose to ignore him. "We have to search the hotel. It's a long shot, but the guy who did this may still be here."

"How do you know it's a guy? How do you even know it's a person? How do you know it's not just you in your sleep?"

Angel waved the paper. "One, I can draw. Two, this doesn't smell like a demon or anyone I know. So get searching."

Heather sighed. "Shoulda just got a job at the Gap."

Spike pulled an axe out of the weapons cabinet. "Don't worry love. You can come with me."

Heather smiled a little, trying to cover up her worry with the thought that at least the situation wasn't a total loss.

* * *

Angel handed a photo to Gunn. "I think you're right. I think these cases are related."

Gunn looked down at the photo. It was a woman with a lop-sided X carved into her cheek. From a different angel it looked like a cross.

"How is this related to the art school dropout pictures on Heather's pillow?"

"This is how I used to torture victims when I was hunting with a vampire named Penn."

"And the other cases?"

Angel looked at a painting over his desk. "They remind me of…Sunnydale."

"Well that's not…" he looked up. "Don't go into brood-mode."

Angel looked up. "Hmm?"

"Your eyebrows come down all low. Then you start talkin' in one-syllable words and we barely get any info out of you. So, don't go into brood-mode."

Angel looked blankly at Gunn. "I don't have many…other modes."

Gunn decided to ignore that comment. "Look, do you have any idea who might be doin' this stuff? It's gotta be someone with access to a lot of information on you which means—"

"Watcher's Council or Wolfram and Heart."

Gunn nodded.

* * *

The man burst through the door and settled in front of his laptop. He nodded as he watched Gunn and Angel talk. They were finally figuring it out. He'd need to move on to the next part of his plan. He watched the monitor as Lorne walked into view.

* * *

Gunn looked up at Lorne. "You headin' out again, man? It's like 4am!"

Lorne didn't look up. "Too much stuff going on around here. And Heather's singing in the shower again."

Gunn looked gloomy. "I guess that means everyone's up. And this was my day to sleep in."

Angel got up. "Look, Lorne, until we catch this guy I—"

Lorne pushed past him. "As touching as your concern is, we all know y—I mean psycho guy is after Heather. See you boys later."

Gunn watched him go. "Man, does he ever not like you right now."

Angel sighed. "Noticed that, did you?"

* * *

Lorne walked through the false dawn, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. He hated being back in the Hyperion. It was just wrong without…

He shoved that thought aside. Alcohol could be purchased, even at 4am. And alcohol was his friend.

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Shaking his head, he started walking again. He thought he'd heard something. He was just being paranoid because of all the dangerous demons in LA.

He stopped again. This time he _knew_ he'd heard someth—

* * *

Heather came downstairs and stood next to Angel, leaning over his shoulder to look at the papers on his desk. After a few moments Angel looked up at her.

"What?"

"Anything new?"

"Does it look like it?"

Heather looked frustrated. "It's been all day!"

Angel stood up and moved away from her. As a romantic loner he needed his personal space.

"Look, we don't have the contacts that we used to. It's going to take some time to build them up again. Until then getting information is going to take longer."

They both looked up as Gunn walked into the Lobby. "Got some info."

Heather cocked an eyebrow at Angel and then turned to hear Gunn's news.

"Some dude's been hanging around the local demon bar in a leather jacket and spiky hair."

Angel looked blank. "And?"

Heather eyed Angel. "Sounds promising."

Gunn continued. "He's human, and normally that means dinner in a bar like that, but he keeps tellin' people he knows Angelus…well."

"Alright, we'll check it out."

* * *

The blackness that had engulfed Lorne slowly began to dissipate.

He groaned. "What a hangover…that's it. I officially swear off the Jungle Juice." His head _throbbed_.

He lifted one hand to rub some of the throbbing away…or in theory he did. In practice the hand stayed behind his back.

"Uh oh…this does not look good."

He struggled with his wrists. "Really not good."

"Don't try to loosen them."

Lorne craned his neck in an attempt to see the speaker.

"I tied them really tight."

A man walked into view. Lorne looked into his face. A face he recognized.

"I was right. He _is_ doing this! Sort of…"

The man leered down. "You won't be getting out of this. Once you're in the hands of Angelus—"

Lorne scoffed. "Is that the best impression you can do?"

The man's face reddened.

"I mean, Angelus is way more menacing than that. He doesn't parrot clichéd lines, and he would _never_ wear those pan—"

Lorne was interrupted by a boot moving rapidly towards his face, then darkness.

* * *

Angel, Gunn, and Heather walked into a dive that passed for the local demon bar now that Caritas was out of business. Heather sat down at one of the tables in the front, arms folded across her chest. She scanned the room looking for what could pass as possible sneak-into-you-bedroom-at-night psychopaths. Unfortunately the possibilities were more numerous than one could have hoped.

Heather watched Angel and Gunn head up to the bar. They sat down in front of the bartender, ordered drinks, and began talking to him intensely. She sighed. This was why she was sitting over here. No patience for this film noir crap.

She heard someone walk up next to her. She turned, ready to give it to some creep when she noticed…him. She still thought he was pretty good looking, in an annoying sort of way, but she wasn't entirely sure what to think about him, especially after last time.

"Hey," he said, softly. She found herself leaning in to hear him better.

"Hey yourself," she replied, not completely sarcastically.

"You do know that this place is dangerous?…" he asked.

Heather looked around at the various demons. "Ummm…yeah."

"I'm just worried. Girl like you…could get hurt."

She frowned. "Thanks for your concern."

He leaned in. "After all, I wouldn't want something to happen to you, lover. Not yet, anyway."

Heather leaned back. She stared at the man, ready to unleash some verbal barb when he looked over her shoulder and then quickly left the side of the table.

Gunn walked over and sat down. "Got some info. The guy comes here a lot. Should be here tonight. Runs his mouth off about the slayer, and nowadays that's sort of a question of which one. He also talks like he's Angelus, though the bartender seems to think the guy knows he's not, so maybe he's just a partial nut job." Gunn watched her for a moment. "Hello? You there?"

Heather looked up. "Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "Some weird guy was just sitting here. I tossed him about in an alley a couple of days ago and today he calls me lover and," Angel walked over and sat down. Heather stared for a moment and then pointed at him, "he looks like that."

* * *

Heather closed the door to her room. This whole thing was just too freaky. Now that she knew the guy had actually talked to her…well, it made her feel far more vulnerable. She didn't like the idea that he'd been lurking around, watching her for so long.

She stepped into her closet, hanging up her jacket. She stopped for a second and frowned. Something was off.

She felt her spine itch and a sinking in her stomach. Someone was behind her, trying very hard to be quiet. Time to play it like she though she was alone.

She backed out of the closet, muscles tensing, and then she whirled on…Illyria.

"You are ready for battle. Do you wish to engage in a training exercise?"

Heather let out her breath. "We need to set some ground rules. The first one is don't sneak up on me!"

Illyria tilted her head. "I do not wish to follow your 'ground rules.' However, if you wish to train I shall be downstairs with Spike."

Heather sighed and followed Illyria. Training actually sounded really good.

He watched her leave and cursed silently to himself. So much for the second half of his plan…but he wasn't about to fight off Illyria and Spike. He turned from the window. He'd just have to make do with what he had…

* * *

Angel walked into the hotel with a police scanner. Spike looked up from the weapons cabinet where he was rooting around for a new weapon.

"Hey Peaches. Patrol was uneventful last night. One vamp. Break out the Champion streamers." He noticed the scanner. "Where'd you get that?"

"From around."

Gunn walked down the stairs into the lobby. "Cool, new police scanner. Where'd you get it?"

"From around."

Gunn and Spike shared a look. Angel caught it.

"Look, from around, okay! Perfectly legitimate, semi-legal—" both men continued to smirk. Angel cracked. "Fine! I bought it from a guy who said it fell out of a police car."

Spike shook his head. "Didn't even steal it yourself…"

Gunn played along. "Slipping. Spends all year at an evil law firm and the man develops some morals."

"Look, we have no info on this guy. He's always one step ahead and now Heather's upstairs freaking out because he actually managed to talk to her, twice! So I'll break down and buy a semi-legal police scanner."

Spike smirked. "It's just too easy, mate."

"We know, Angel. We're just having fun. I mean, we _could_ be poking fun at your fanboy's bad hair…"

Angel ignored both of them and headed for his office. Setting it up he turned it on. He adjusted the tuner, compensating for the crackling and heard a report coming through.

"…requesting backup for a possible hostage situation in a retail building on…"

Angel listened for a little longer and then grabbed his coat.

"I knew this thing'd come in handy."

* * *

Angel scanned the sports store. The scene was familiar.

Lorne lay on the ground, unconscious, trussed up and covered with explosives. And Angel's doppelganger stood in front, scanning the room full of hostages.

Connor came up beside him. "Looks familiar, huh?"

Angel looked over at him. "What are you doing here?"

Connor didn't look up from the scene below. "Saw a report on the news, was struck by the similarity. I had to come check it out." Connor looked sidelong at his father. "You gonna jump off the balcony?"

"Was thinkin' about it. Look, Connor, I don't want you to get involved. I have Spike and Gunn coming in through the basement while Illyria and Heather hold off the front. You don't have to get caught up in all this."

Connor looked down at the man holding the trigger. "I already am."

Angel sighed and jumped down from the balcony. He moved through the display racks towards the middle of the store.

"Got this scene a little wrong," he said. "Angelus didn't do this." He stopped a few feet away from the man, wanting to be close enough to stop him if need be, but not so close that he was threatening.

The man raised an eyebrow, hand never leaving the trigger. "You think he didn't? Connor was your son, a product of a one nighter between you and Darla, raised by a man tormented by your sins. Of course he's a product of Angelus."

Angel looked back at the balcony, noticing that Connor wasn't there anymore. So much for uninvolved. He looked down at Lorne, tied up and unconscious, lying on the floor just like Cordy had a little over a year ago.

"Why Lorne?" he asked. "Last time I checked we didn't have the unrequited love quashed by impregnation via a rouge power."

The man shrugged. "You don't know?"

Angel shrugged and prepared himself for a lecture.

"Lorne was like the heart of your group. The conscience. Just like Cordelia was. And like Cordelia you've allowed this to happen to him. You put him in this situation just like you created me. How does it feel to know that you can't overwrite this event? Can't change history to suit you. How's it feel to be the victim of Angelus?"

Angel blinked. "I'm sorry, I know this is the big, dramatic monologue and everything, but how exactly did I create you?"

"By existing."

Angel paused. "Um, yeah. Okay. Look, "Angelus," I didn't create you. I didn't mentor you like Penn or drive you insane like Dru." He moved quickly, grabbing the man and the trigger at the same time. "And I don't do autographs."

The guy grinned up at him. "May want to start."

Angel turned and noticed that there were more people coming in…and there was a strong presence of leather jackets. Illyria, Heather, Gunn, and Spike were being pushed towards him, trying to hold back the crowd of wannabes without hurting them.

Spike eyed the assembled masses. "Oh, bloody hell. There's a couple here that look like me."

Gunn raised his eyebrows, trying to stay serious in the face of this army. "What, are their Klingon costumes at the drycleaners?"

Connor smirked at Gunn's line, coming up behind the man. He steeled himself for another fight.

Heather watched them all, jaw tight. One was bad enough, now there was an entire army of _stalkers_…

The horde of Angel look-alikes, with the smattering of peroxide blonde that indicated a Spike fan, charged. Gunn and Spike both fended them off, looking intensely bored.

Gunn, Illyria, Connor, and Heather easily blocked the look-alikes' punches and kicks. The kids really couldn't fight very well. Gunn suspected that they had learned what little they knew from kung fu movies and possibly Tai Bo. Most of the kids who were knocked over ran to the back of the fight clutching their bruises or fixing their hair.

Someone jumped on Spike from behind, and he flung the person forward only to see…himself, or at least a second rate copy.

The not-Spike grinned at him. "Well, cor, pet-luv-ducks. What have we bloody sodding gotten our selves into?"

Spike stared. "I do _not_ talk like that, you git!"

The not-Spike grinned. "Well, bollocks, mate-ducks, I bloody well think you do…cor."

Spike charged with a growl and knocked the not-Spike to the floor.

"I do NOT talk like that!"

Angel tightened his grip on the original fake as the man started to struggle. A couple of other look-alikes charged him and he knocked them aside with ease. "Is this what you guys do? Sit around in your basements and pretend to be heroes?"

The man grinned. "I don't know about them, but I'm not interested in heroics."

Angel turned the man around, still maintaining a solid grip on his arms. "So what? You want to be a vampire but you're too pathetic to get someone to sire you so you just pretend to be me?"

The man looked angry. "Of course not! Look at you," he sneered, "you were a legend, now you're this insipid do-gooder. It's disgusting. When I was at Wolfram and Heart I saw you and I was inspired. There you were, the leader of evil, the man in charge of ultimate power with a reputation that," he grinned, "well…wow. I watched as you alienated your friends, I watched as you allowed three of your own to die and threw your inner circle out of your office, and I thought, 'he's back!' But you're not. You're off helping the hapless…again! You are so much more then that! We study you, we honour you, and you've let us down. So I decided to show you who you were again, to illustrate your past glory. This way you can see…Angelus is not dead! He lives on! He can cease to be a disappointment. He can fulfill the role he was meant to!"

Angel stared at the man for a moment, disgust colouring his features, and then he knocked "Angelus" out.

Heather pushed past a group of the clones and looked down at her stalker, grim satisfaction on her face. "Now _that's_ what I want," she said before turning to help Gunn round up some of the injured "fans".

Connor came over. "It ended differently then I remember." He tried to grin. "There's no knife this time."

Angel looked up, pain in his eyes. "Connor…"

"Dad, you didn't make him. He made himself."

* * *

"Well, that was bloody weird." Spike sat on the poof in the lobby, occasionally spitting a little.

Heather stared at him. "What's your problem?"

Spike looked up. "Oh…well, I tried to scare one of those wankers, you know, put the fear of vamp into him, and the kid practically shoved his fist down my throat. 'M still tryin' to decide if he was punchin' me or force-feeding. I don't know what those morons eat all day, but his blood tasted like bloody corn syrup."

Gunn tried to hide a smirk. "Was that the one who kept calling you 'luv-ducks' or the one who told you that you 'belonged in the dark' with him?"

Spike looked uncomfortable. "Careful, Charlie-boy. Thin ice."

Gunn's face split into a grin. "Too easy."

* * *

Connor sat outside in the garden. He looked up at the sun, a dark look on his face.

Heather watched him from the shaded area, trying to decide whether or not to approach him. After a moment she walked over and sat next to him.

"Hey," she said. Connor grunted something that could have been interpreted as "hello" so she pressed on.

"Weird, huh? But, I mean, at least Angel got to see what he looked like. Must drive him crazy…no mirror…"

Connor stared at his hands. "Finally hitting you, isn't it? What it's like to work for a vampire."

Heather sighed. "Yeah. But it's cool. Slayer destiny, or whatever." She paused, unsure if she should broach the subject. "What…what did that weirdo mean? That you were a product of Angelus?"

Connor visibly tensed. "Well, you know…look, it's complicated."

Heather raised an eyebrow. "Mmmhmmm. You're going to have to do a lot better than that."

Connor finally looked at her, emotions warring on his face. "I'm…I'm Angel's son. And last year I tried to kill a bunch of people in a sports store so Angel changed the world so I wasn't his son, but I got my memories back, so now I have two sets of parents and this crazy world keeps dragging me back in and…it's complicated."

Heather stared at him. "Oh," she said after a while.

"Yeah," said Connor, looking back at his hands.

* * *

Lorne held an icepack to his head. His kidnapper had loosened a horn when he'd kicked Lorne in the face. Figured.

He heard a tapping at the door and sighed. "Go away."

Angel entered. "I'm choosing to take that as a 'come on in, Angelcakes.'"

Lorne didn't even turn around. "Suit yourself."

"Look, Lorne, I'm sorry you got caught up in all that."

"And it's so surprising that I did? Whenever I'm around you, Angel, I get caught up in this stuff. Of course some crazy kid trying to be you kidnapped me as a means of convincing you to become Angelus once again."

"That doesn't always happen—"

Lorne glared at the wall, never looking at Angel. "I ran a bar for years and until you walked your over-styled hair through the front door I never once had to deal with anything so strange. And my clientele was made up of demons and evil lawyers! You create these problems Angel, and if you don't create them, like that kid today, then they follow you around."

Lorne turned his attention back to whatever he had been staring at before. Angel watched him for a moment, and then left the room.

END


End file.
